


Lady Lannister's Wedding Night

by Logos_Faber



Series: Stark Raving Lannister [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logos_Faber/pseuds/Logos_Faber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was not the wedding of her dreams...so why should the wedding night be any better?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady Lannister's Wedding Night

**Lady Lannister’s Wedding Night**

This is a non-profit work of fiction for the amusement of other fans.

No infringement is intended.

Logos Faber

o0o

 

“Having been the object of men’s sexual desires since you flowered; I’m not surprised you don’t believe when I tell you I'm not I interested in your...charms.” Tyrion Lannister gestured expressively toward Sansa Lannister nee Stark’s naked body. "In my eyes you are a little girl. Almost the same age as my niece Myrcella."

“Then why have you had me disrobe before you milord?” the young girl asked voice trembling, eyes clouding with slow dripping tears. “To shame me as the rest of your family has done?”

“Why should you feel ashamed? I am naked as well. ” The dwarf defended himself in bewilderment. “Do I look ashamed?”

“No…but you are a man. It is different for women. You know this.”

“You poor ignorant girl. All this time in the capital and all you have learned is your suffering is bitter and unjust. Men feel body shame the same as women." Tyrion muttered almost to softly to hear. "The gods help Cersei if Joffrey is every publicly disrobed.”

Tyrion shook his head, then levered his body up onto one of the two chairs before the fireplace. “Pour yourself some wine and come sit with me Sansa. You may call me Tyrion in these rooms.”

Sansa moved to retrieve her under garment from the bed, but Tyrion called out to her.

“Don’t bother to cover yourself. Come as you are. This will be an uncomfortable conversation. You might as well be as uncomfortable as possible. Bring the wine. I am going to need it and so will you.”

“As you wish my lord Tyrion,” the tall slim girl mumbled. She went to the table where a pitcher of wine, olives, cheese, cold meat, a knife and goblets were laid out. She looked at small knife for a long time, but did not pick it up. She had no place to hide it. Besides it was not Tyrion she wanted to kill. Not really.

Not yet anyway. 

She approached her new husband slowly, holding the wine in front of her sex to shield herself. When she was close enough Sansa looked down into Tyrion’s lap then away quickly. She had felt cold with fear, now her chest, neck, back and face burned hot with a shameful blush.

“Don’t look away. Look your fill. You'll be expected to have seen me thus tomorrow.”

“I would rather not lord Tyrion.”

“I insist milady. No doubt the rose of Tyrell will ask you impertinent questions about my body tomorrow.”

"Magaery would never do such a thing!" Sansa said scandalized.

"That's what you think. I know better. Sansa, please. Humor me in this."

Sansa stared at her husband’s limp naked sex with the same resolute steel she had stared at her father Eddard Stark’s head on a spike when King Joffery Baratheon, her one true love, commanded her.

“How long must I gaze upon you…my lord?”

“Until you get it through your thick red-head that I do not want you on your back!" Tyrion shouted then calmed himself with great effort. 

"Before a man can perform the duties of a husband or rapist his manhood must be erect. You do not inspire that desire in me. I prefer my bed partner to be both full grown women and willing. You are flat as a boy and as welling to have sex with me as a salt-wife fresh off a Kraken's boat. Pour my wine and sit down, please.”

“You prefer the company of whores Lord Tyrion?” Sansa asked stung with humiliated anger and confused. She wanted to dump the wine on his head, but reframed. Tyrion’s sell-sword was just outside the door and the old gods only knew were Joffery was lurking waiting for his chance at her. "Shall I send for one?"

She did not want the dwarf to force his way between her legs, but it was galling that the imp should tell her she was undesirable. As if being the poor friendless daughter of a confessed traitor surrounded by Lannisters was not enough punishment.

Tyrion smirked at her. "Thank you for the kind offer, but that won't be necessary."

"As you wish my lord. My chief concern is of course your comfort and happiness."

"You are prejudiced against whores, but why? Is that something your mother taught you or do you have a personal reason?"

"Women who sell their bodies for coin are dirty both physically and morally. They spread disease and lust. They corrode the morals of men and lead them astray."

"I have known many whores. I can tell you from personal experience they are no different from less sexual experienced women, except perhaps they have a better understanding of the fickleness of a man's affection that most wives. 

"You prefer the company of whores to ladies," Sansa accused; the unvoiced -because you a physically and morally corrupt was unspoken but not unheard.

Tyrion smirked again. “Whores and I understand each other perfectly. I pay them to satisfy my lust and sooth my pride. When it is over we are both better off for the experience. Why do you look at me like that? It is no different from the way ladies surround themselves with flattering poets and singers to feel pretty and loved.”

Sansa’s blush faded in the face of Tyrion’s blunt honesty. She sat slowly in the chair across from her husband, hunched forward with the pitcher in her lap to hide as much of herself from his frank gaze. He was a pathetic, little man with love hungry eyes like Jon Snow at the low table, wishing he was really part of the Stark family.

“You have made it clear you don't want my body." For now,she thought. "What do you want?”

“Tyrion. Please use my name. I want only your cooperation, loyalty and discretion. In return I will give you respect, knowledge and either your freedom or Winterfell. You can decide which you want more at a later date.”

“You can’t give what you don’t have.” 

“How do you know what is in my power to give or not?" 

"I know what I've seen." 

"May I tell you a story Sansa?”

“If it will please you tell it, I will listen.” Sansa shifted in her seat. She wished Tyrion would let her go to bed if he was not going to bed her. It had been another long terrible day and her head was starting to hurt as badly as her feet.

“There once was a sell-sword who sold his loyalty to a Westeros Lord. His skill earned his descendants a coat of arms and a small holding. He told his children and their children to always look for opportunity to raise themselves above their birth, and they listened.”

“Why are you telling me this? I’m too old for fairy tales.”

“Don’t interrupt; there will be time for questions at the end.”

 

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

 

“The sell-sword’s grandson was fostered with the liege Lord’s own children. The grandson might have remained a hedge knight if the married daughter of his liege had not remembered him to her Lord husband. The grandson was clever and quickly promoted to greater responsibility.

When his new liege was promoted to a position of authority in the capital he brought the sell-sword’s grandson with him. Again the young man was clever and promoted for his work. The grandson became an important man in the capital, everyone’s friend and confident. The grandson gave positions to his friends, and they were more loyal to him than the crown.

They brought him secrets. The grandson grew in influence. He made a fortune off war and the carelessness of others…you are burning with questions. Ask.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“My personal inspiration Petyr Baelish: who has done more with what he was born with than even Robert Baratheon who played your father for a fool - don’t look at me like that. Your father wronged you more than any man on this earth, Joffery included.”

“He was a good man! Honest and honorable – he was worth ten of you!”

“I couldn't agree with you more, but what has his honor done for you lately? Have any of his alleged friends come down to save you? Offered ransom for your return to the north? Sent you so much as a raven of condolence?" 

"Everyone's scared of Joffery. He's king he could do horrible things -" 

"You really think Joffery is the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms? He's never fought a battle, has no idea about how this kingdom is run - a year ago he still had a bedtime!" Tyrion shouted, then calmed himself again. 

"Ned Stark's first duty as Lord of Winterfell, and your father was to protect his family, holdings, vassals, and smallfolk. His actions have not only ruined your family, but this war will cause famine though out the North and Riverlands this winter. A whole generation might be lost in the coming frost.”

Tears sprang to Sansa’s eyes quickly after all the other emotions she had recently felt in quick succession. She could not hold them back, so she looked down at her lap. She would not give the little monster the satisfaction of watching her pain if she could help it.

"Don't you think I know that? But what can be done? The crown doesn't care if Northmen starve. Nothing would delight them more than for my people to freeze to death!"

“Sansa…I want to be kind, but kindness and pity won’t help you will they? You need weapons, and the most effective weapons of state craft are of the mind and heart."

"Words are wind. They won't save anybody from the sword or starvation! Only winning this war will!"

"War is chaos. Chaos only satisfies the hunger of ambitious men, like the sell-sword's grandson. They have nothing to loose and everything to gain. Robert Baratheon used your father for his own gain: once to get his fat ass on the Iron Throne and again to help purge the evils festering in house Baratheon.”

“Robert the Bold was my father’s friend!”

“Would a friend have insisted on your engagement to Joffery? Make no mistake, my nephew's tendencies toward cowardice and cruelty have never been a secret.”

“Why are you telling me all this, it doesn’t change the past. My father can’t save me. You can’t save me –“

“You don’t need saving. A dire wolf hardly needs half a lion to come to her defense! I’m trying to make you realize everyone in this forsaken city - no matter what they say or how nicely they say it - is self serving. Sansa you were born with everything you need to get everything you want.”

“What’s between my legs you mean? Isn’t that an arrow that can only be fired once?” 

“In your head girl. Under all that hair, between your ears is the most powerful weapon in this world.”

“I’d rather have gold and armies.”

“You can have that and more. So much more. If you play the game.”

“Game? What game?”

“The Game of Thrones and Bones. The only game worth playing. I warn you the stakes are very high. You either win or you die…now dry your eyes. Dress yourself for bed. Instead of praying I want to spend your time considering the First Rule of Lordship.”

“Which is?” Sansa rose surprised she had almost forgotten her nudity. She set the wine pitcher on the table as she passed quickly made her way to the bed were her night shift was laid out.

“First and foremost a lord must look after their own affairs. Your father was the last honorable man in land: never forget the fate of a selfless man in a world of avarice. Think about everyone you’ve met in King’s Landing. Consider what they really are after...By the way your wedding gifts are on the chest at the foot of the bed.”

Sansa glanced over her shoulder to see Tyrion scoot off his chair and toddle over to the chaise. Sansa watched him climb up onto the low couch and make his bed amongst the pillows and blankets. She rounded the bed to the chest at the foot and found a leather bag, like a journeymen’s tote tossed there.

Sansa unbuckled the clasp, flipped the bag open and turned it upside down on the foot of the bed. A thick leather bound gold embossed book tumbled out, along with a two rings, and a delicate golden choker dripping with pearls. It looked like a collar to Sansa.

One ring was a lion’s head with a ruby in its mouth. The other was a platinum wolfs head with sapphire eyes. Her father’s ring: the signet of Winterfell. Her breath caught, but she held her tears. She had thought the heirloom lost with everything else. Tyrion was kind to return it to her.

When she could breathe again without sobbing Sansa wiped her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her night gown and reached for the book. Grand Maester Kaeth’s Lives of Four Kings was stamped across the front in gold lettering. It was the thickest book she had ever seen.

“There are only four known copies of that book, I was going to give it to Joffery at his wedding, but since he’d only burn it I thought I’d lend it to you. I'll give him a fancy dagger. He'll like that.”

Sansa turned and found Tyrion laying on his side, half propped up by pillows looking at her.

“I’m not a great reader.”

“If you want to be a great lady you will need the wisdom on those pages. I expect you to read that book cover to cover. I have. Many times…The necklace I had made for you, the lion’s ring belonged to my mother. That’s everything: something old, something new, something borrowed something blue.”

It was a silly superstition meant to bring luck to a new marriage. Normally the gifts were gathered by the bride’s family, tokens of love to take into her new life. Sansa was touched, and saddened by the gesture.

“Thank you Tyrion.”

“You’re welcome Sansa…I know this is not the marriage you dreamed of and I am not any kind of knight savior but I promise if you bear with me, you have my word I will never intentionally harm you and I will equip you to fight for yourself.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Your lack of faith would offend me if I did not know so much about your recent misadventures. As my wife you are owed all the benefits that can be derived from my status and wealth and a Lannister always pays his debts.”

Tyrion turned his back on her pulling his blankets up to his shoulders. “Go to sleep wife. Tomorrow is another day.”

**Author's Note:**

> More to come as inspiration strikes me.


End file.
